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What started out as a hybrid essay for a micro-pamphlet manuscript without a publisher, turned into a glimpse at a vibrant performer belting out her transition from music to poetry. Rivky’s set of four poems kept me lost in the mix of topical humor and found imagery. Rivky purges the expressions of her own journey as a musician, and each and every poem is another pit stop for another world tour. Rivky’s experimental use of witty dialogue and happenstance collaborate beautifully throughout the work.

Other Banter is a quartet supporting such praise. It starts off with a memento to a catch 22 of a modern-day lost romance, relaying personal romantic issues with the bigger issues of humanity, such as social unrest. The piece is entitled, “Final Closing Number.” This spoken word piece, which begins with an intro quoting Maya Angelou (in the original recording). A particular callback to the theme of a love lost in a digital chasm can be found in this poem

“…By the fame, by the frame inside your talking cell.

In the flame, we’re all the same, such a shame inside a facebook shell.

Netflix welling up my mind,

paying by the dime

And time again, waiting by the lion’s den.

And ads are selling, one by one, no one’s yelling, I’m *mispeling, always texting, Waiting for the next thing.

Feeling painful pleasure building by the next ring.

November came in loudly.”

As we hear about a love lost, we not only see a glimpse into the falter of two flirts gone wrong in a digital age, but are lead in to a grand distraction from the issues plaguing our society today such as war.

The second poem in Rivky’s quartet is entitled, “I’m empty, my lord” a memoriam poem, paying tribute to the late great Leonard Cohen. In the first stanzas, Rivky reads,

“If you’re the composer, I’m told of your fame

If you are the singer, let me sing of your name

If thine is the poet

I’ll remember your name

They want it darker

You are the flame

Magnified sanctified, this melody shall remain

Vilified, crucified, in the human frame

A million candles burning for the legend speaking pain

They want it darker

For money, their money?

I’m empty, my Lord.

I hadn’t known your story

But the dream is still the same”

The lines throughout this poem speak of much more than what’s been accomplished, but the painful journey it took to achieve said accomplishments. Rivky balances the genre of elegy and ode fairly well throughout this piece.

The next poem deals with something a little more personal to the author, in which Rivky speaks about her struggle with schizophrenia, entitled “Rouging the Aces”

“I am sharply awake

From when twilight first faded,

Un-rested

This maddening heart.

Those thoughts, illuminated

Those words aching.

Definitively, cut off.

Oh my purple sevens,

Fragment heavens

Of color, greens and nines

Of latent blues and silver two

Written inside this gold, mine.

Fractioned, Falling one by one,

Even, tipping, edging,

Oddly numbing, resolving none.

Hued, shaping, slightly

Mooded.

Indeed, draped, muffled, sorted,

Muted.”

Through these stanzas and further into the poem, it almost feels like Rivky speaks of entirely different world, always on a tipping point through her eyes, one that is composed of fragments and always trying to rebuild itself up again.

The last poem, is brilliant in re-introducing humor and ending on that note rather than on a sadder one. Entitled, “C is for cellphone. Nom, nom, nom.” It is more of free-form prose than a typical poem. It’s actually pretty hard to categorize in terms of overall genre but in sub-genre terms I would say dark comedy. This dark humor story captures the imaginative and whimsical wit of Rivky’s own relationship with technology. A relationship, that I feel so many of us can relate to.

“Again. I mean, certainly I knew that, what I was seeing in front of me was really all but some kind of hallucinatory, audio-visual Telly box, Matrix. Purely just a psychedelic experience of fleeting, flashing lights. But, then, really not. You know? I force-blinked my eyes tightly shut for like a few micro-seconds to outright refuse the oncoming text traffic. I did! Really I did.

But after the omg’s, wtf’s, tmi’s, lol’s, brb’s, the sound of loud bloody red-flagged notifications and alerting dings, dongs and dangs, it just couldn’t be silenced.”

And further we see how that relationship with our technology can take a unfortunate turn:

“…As I sat there reflecting blue-nosed, with my chin brightened by this frame, I wondered.”

Was I indeed paying a high price? My Cookie Monster nostalgia has faded from my consciousness, replaced with an immediate consumption of something else. Cookies seem healthy in comparison.

“C is for cellphone. Nom, nom, nom.”

Whether it’s on the basis of dark comedy, existentialism, fading romances, or homages to the fallen, Rivky’s themes interconnect to show you her world, through her eyes, in a way to make you aware of your own.

***

(As there is no manuscript of the poems available for purchase, we have included them in their entirety below for your reading pleasure!)

C Is For Cellphone: Nom Nom Nom.

Before using a blue oil pastel to color in one of the Sesame Street muppets, I had been deeply immersed inside a blue screen.
On a speaking device often recognized for damaging, sometimes even, paralyzing thee…muscle movements located between the thumb and the index finger. Also, known I’m told as, the Digitus Secundus.

Thus it had begun in my hands. The biological elements moving inside the skeletal frame, froze. Phone cackled while bone crackled, fingers stiffened in ways not yet recognized by the normal course of nature as we knew it. With what also seemed to be a noticeable change in brain-wave activity soon to follow…

This Millennial had become securely siamesed to a peculiar cellular proliferation. To this black buzzing, vibrating companion that repeatedly had been causing this rapid-fire rush of symptoms. Quickly. And in no particular order:

Now, I wanted to desperately loosen from its vibrating, bzzz, brrr, rrrring, BING!, hum-slipping, skedaddling, slick, stuckiddy, splitting headache. From that plastic, black and orange lined device that made me swipe, slide and press things to a crippling excess, ad nausea. My pupils dilated, in, out, in-out, in-OUT, bulged and ached from that disturbingly long scrolling-read that just, seriously? Eye-ball sucked me dry. Again. I mean, certainly I knew that, what I was seeing in front of me was really all but some kind of hallucinatory, audio-visual Telly box, Matrix. Purely just a psychedelic experience of fleeting, flashing lights. But, then, really not. You know? I force-blinked my eyes tightly shut for like a few micro-seconds to outright refuse the oncoming text traffic. I did! Really I did.

But after the omgs, wtfs, tmis, lols, brbs, the sound of loud bloody red-flagged notifications and alerting dings, dongs and dangs, it just couldn’t be silenced. I then remembered that just two hours earlier. No, three hours earlier, I could’ve sworn I needed to pee like really badly. How does the bladder suddenly know when to forget the desperate need to release such a high volume of pee, when there was even this mantra on a mission: “Oo gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!!!!” And in that same perplexing P-pondering moment, I suddenly bolted to the nearest bathroom.

It was there, finding myself peacefully sitting on a toilet that my right, claw-clenched hand released itself simultaneously. I had begun miraculously moving again. I witnessed this almost poetic scene. It was a burgeoning, five-fingered, “Filipendula Ulmaria.” Just an elegant palm beauty as she was. Like yesterday’s unfurling of an early Spring. Relief washed over my wiggling pinky and thumb as I exhaled. Gently, my inner muscles eased. Pointed fingers up, in high-five style, stretching out, more now, opening my hand slowly, ah-eeh-oow-ow-Ow, easy, steady now, ouch-ouch, that’s it, sigh, breathe, ahhh. Better. Shake it, you know, like a Polaroid. MUCH. Better.

Mobile…it seemed.

Then I gradually became aware that there was my face. Unaware of the mouth on it? Moving. Between two peachy-reddish cheeks. That were human. And mine. I had realized at some points I had been sinking down…down, way too low, my mouth inching closely nibbling on the current Twitter feed. Even bird-like I imagined. I certainly may as well have been tweeting. My parched lips were almost but not quite clinging yet to the moistened electronic screen, hot headed, phony frame, encased in a sheer, pure, s-HELL. At this point I had started to sharply imagine opening up my mouth really wide and taking in just this huge chunk. Out of the corner piece of my cellphone. Well, kind of like, Cookie Monster. Only perhaps consuming, an exorbitant amount of browsing history that could make ANY Sesame Street character, quite ill-equipped for all that unwanted, er, cookie, data.

Maybe I was just hungry? I hadn’t been nourishing myself well lately.

I bet this contraption was like one of those newer non-GMO’s on the market…phone-y screened for any genetic…cellular…mutations.

You ‘know, probably known to the underground Techno-Pharma Beatnik Squares, as

“Fluorescent Flora.”

With only the purest

batteries, copper, silver

and other naturally

occurring metal elements.

(Loudly advertised under, oh I don’t know, T-Mobile for Tasty).

“Organic…down to the last molecular…Cell.”

And the highest bid goes to?

As I sat there reflecting blue-nosed, with my chin brightened by this frame, I wondered.

Was I indeed paying a high price? My Cookie Monster nostalgia has faded from my consciousness, replaced with an immediate consumption of something else. Cookies seem healthy in comparison.

Although it’s only five pages of poetry, and seven pages total in length, Kristin Garth’s The Legend of Were Mer reads like a full-length story. A recurring theme in much of Garth’s work, is reinventing the old canon, and bringing it into the 21st century. In this Micro Chap, the poetry tells the tale of a mermaid who is always in longing: longing for a different way of life, longing for a shore instead of a sea, longing for an island instead of a reef. Garth takes the idea of fairy-tale transformations and re-imagines it in a looming shadow rather than in a glowing light.

The storytelling in The Legend of Were Mer moves like the ocean it depicts, flowing from current to current, coast to coast, from bitter start to a bitter end. It starts with the sonnet “Maudlin Mermaid,” A darkly-whimsical intro about a mermaid, who resembles the contrast of nightfall, while the rest of her kind resemble the hue of a sunny day. Garth describes:

“Charcoal, her scales, sequined sunlight on waves.

A raven head on rocks she must pretend

to persecute the sailors that she craves.

Her sisters swim to join with rainbow tails

and tresses tinged in pink and honeydew

with smiles that spread the closer ships do sail.”

Too many times in folklore, mermaids have often been portrayed either as something evil or something immaturely innocent. This is especially why I love it when there are female writers out there, like Garth, who are never afraid to redefine such a world-renown archetype and mold this image into something more complex.

Throughout this piece other poems show the dark price the mermaid pays when she decides to journey elsewhere. Consumed by the elements of the vast unknown plane that is the sea. From a nightfall transformation gone wrong to a capture by coldhearted fishermen, Garth’s Mermaid is the Anti-Ariel in every way. Her fantasy isn’t a travelogue of romance and acceptance, its a path of torment and abuse. And as savage as that may sound, it’s part of the beauty that exists throughout this collection. For, what is beauty without honesty? This piece exhumes in seven pages what it can take many tales to do in over a hundred. And if that is not a collection worth telling one’s grandchildren then I must have forgotten what that entails.

Crown of Feathers is the ideal fantasy novel that I’ve been searching for. An absolute roller coaster ride of a book with such intricate world building, this book completely enthralled me. Veronyka is a character that I can see myself following where ever she may go, but it is the inclusion of phoenixes in this fantasy epic that really grabbed my attention. Phoenixes are a mystical creature rarity in the world of fantasy novels and in Crown of Feathers they were described so vividly that I will always picture them the way that they were depicted in this book.

“From the ashes I rose, like a phoenix from the pyre.”

Crown of Feathers is a slow moving, character driven, intricate fantasy epic. Told in third person, the story mainly focuses on Veronyka who is a kind-hearted animage, a person who can communicate with animals. There is a bit of sibling rivalry with Val, who is a sharp contrast from her sister as she is brutal and selfish and shows love in harsh strange ways. Tristan is the love interest in the story and there are some chapters that focus on him. While I didn’t like him at first, he grew on me as the story went on. Interspersed throughout the story is the history of two sisters who had rivaled for the throne years prior. Veronyka and Val’s relationship seemed to mirror the princesses. The lives of those two princesses also brought the whole fantasy world and its lengthy history to life.

“That was the day her loss became my victory, and everything changed between us.”

The world building is some of the most intricate that I have seen, except of course, the intricate world of Game of Thrones. There is so much history, religion and culture to this story. The world came to life in this story and it did so vividly filling my mind with blood, betrayal and glory. The beginning was a little confusing at times with all of the history, but the glossary in the back helped me understand things when I got a bit confused. I loved how detailed the world building was and how large of a role phoenixes had played in its history. This is one of those books that you might want to read a second time just because there is so much to it.

“It is a fact of life that one must kill of be killed. Rule of be ruled. Win or lose.”

The plot was an emotional roller coaster. I found myself deeply invested in this novel and all of the people in it. I wanted to yell at the characters at times, while other times I was hooting with excitement. While it was slow paced, I found that I loved it every step of the way. I think a large part of the reason I connected with this story so much is because Veronyka had bonds with animals and I am such an animal lover. But I also found myself so invested in the characters that I was rooting for them the whole way through.

“you have to choose your side, make the right choice.”

From the moment I saw the gorgeous cover of Crown of Feathers I wanted a copy and it was better than I anticipated, if that is even possible. The fantasy world is so intricate and the characters feel so real to me. I absolutely loved this book and can not wait for the next installment. I was shocked to find that this is Nicki Pau Preto’s debut novel and I can’t wait to follow her writing career after reading her first book.

We are thrilled to announce that we are going to press with Coffin Bell TWO this fall! We are still in the midst of selecting the issue, and hope to have a release date in October 2019. We will ask that contributors pay a $5 fee (if able) to cover the cost of the mailer and shipping. If you are a contributor and are unable to pay the fee, please contact us and we will waive it.

We appreciate your patience and understanding while we have ironed things out and couldn’t be more excited to bring you this second volume of dark work! Stay tuned for a cover reveal in the upcoming days!

Coffin Bell Journal is currently on a short hiatus due to unexpected medical and family emergencies on my part. Coffin Bell is a labor of love, and is run by a staff of volunteers. Unfortunately, I am, in addition to EIC, the sole production manager for Coffin Bell, responsible for migrating work from Submittable to the Coffin Bell website. Due to these unforeseen circumstances–which have impacted my health, my finances, and my family–issue 2.3 (which was scheduled to launch 7/1/19) will launch on9/1/19. We appreciate your patience and understanding at this difficult time.

I have plans in place to train at least one more editor on back-end production so this doesn’t have to happen in case of future emergencies.

These circumstances may also impact the publication of Coffin Bell TWO. As it was mostly financed by myself, I’m not sure at this time that I will be able to afford to print the second anthology. And if I do print it, I may not be able to provide free contributor copies. I hope to be able to, and ask for your patience as we make that determination.

We appreciate your support, and we will be back on our regular schedule for issue 2.4, the “Masquerade” issue, which will be published 10/1/19.

We understand your concern for your work, and thank you for trusting us with it. All work which was scheduled to go live 7/1/19 will go live 9/1/19, and we ask that you only send emails to us about your work in issue 2.3 if you wish to withdraw it from publication.

As always, we love you and love your dark work, and hope to bring more of it to readers for years to come.